Wrong House?
by corpusincindio
Summary: What if the sorting hat made the wrong choice?
1. Prologue

Prologue: Parting Ways

Fifteen year old Annie Whiting sat on her bed, with her arms crossed over her chest, in fierce retaliation of her mother's words. Her dark eyes almost black, blazed in silent fury. Her tousled short, curly, black hair and trashed robes made it look like she'd gone right through a cyclone. She stared at her mother, who stood leering over her in attempt to make her slim figure larger. 

"Annie Cass Whiting, I don't want to hear anymore of this! Now get packing!" Lyla Whiting spun on her heals and raged out the door. Annie got quickly to her feet and slammed the door as loud as she could. As she walked to her bathroom, she made sure she made enough noise so her mother could hear her. 

It wasn't fair at all, just as she was finally getting settled, for the thirteenth time, they were moving. Her mother had decided that the job she had applied for in London was a better opportunity than her teaching job in Quataxa, the middle of the Brazilian Jungle. Annie was convinced her mother didn't care about her one bit. They had been living here for three years, she went to Mirasta, a school of witchcraft and wizardry, and she had friends. But most of all she had a boyfriend, a great boyfriend, and she fit. The first place she had ever fit in, she was leaving, and according to her mother for good. She had tried reasoning with her mother, about staying with a friend for the rest of school, she had _just_ two years left. Her mother didn't listen. Said they had to stay together as a family. _No wonder father left. _ Annie looked at herself in the mirror, her face was ragged with fury but she had no tears for it. She was never one for tears. Her pale face was slightly flushed but no more than after a run. She sent a brush through her ebony hair, and then she shook her head, letting the ringlets of black fall into place. Digging in her makeup bag she pulled out her compact, black eyeliner, mascara, eyeshadow and black lipstick. She powered her face, making it look paler than usual and then since she didn't have the tears to shed for this, she drew them in below her left eye with black eyeliner and on the side of her right, she put a star. Then she proceeded to put as much eyeliner, eyeshadow and mascara on her eyes, as possible. Last she ran the black lipstick methodically over her lips. She looked totally gothic. Her mother hated it. _All the more to do it. _Annie turned to her room, she wasn't about to start and pack. _If she wants it done, she can do it. _Annie exchanged her robes for a black shirt with long frilly sleeves and black flare jeans with G-O-T-H written on the butt. Grabbing her wand and her black leather jacket, she popped the lock on the window with her hands(her mother had put a spell on it so she couldn't get out), opened it, and jumped out. Making sure she closed it afterwards, she ran for the basketball courts.

The overcast sky above the Brazilian rainforest made everything look a little darker., and Annie just blended in with it. She got to the courts in no time. She leaned up against the chain link fence watching the game. But most off all, her boyfriend Toni Coran.

Andres turned towards her and winked. 

"Hey Jesus, (pronounced Hay-Zeus), look who showed up. It's the witch with a b, some like to call your girlfriend." 

"Fuck off, Andres." Annie seethed, she was in no mood to deal with his wisecracks. 

"Shut up Andres! Just cause you don't have one, doesn't mean you should berate mine." The dark blond, Toni, passed the ball extra hard to him and ran over to Annie. 

"Darling, what are you doing here? I thought you were still having that fight with your mom? We could even here it from here." Toni tried to mask the worried look in his blue eyes, but this had been the worst fight they had ever gotten into. 

Annie just dismissed the fact, putting an arm around him. 

"She can be a real bitch sometimes." 

"Yeah...What's with the moronic look? You know you can tell me anything darling, what is the punishment this time? " Toni wanted to get to bottom of this. 

"Yeah, I know sweetie but...I...I...I am leaving this time." Annie bit her bottom lip. 

"What! She'd sending you away, but she cant.!" Toni exclaimed, trying to meet her eyes.

"We are both going...London! Toni, don't look at me that way. I can't reason with her at all. So we are leaving tonight. On the seven o'clock train." Annie spat out. 

"Oh...I see. So you are finally leaving this place." Toni said flatly. 

Annie's only response was to kiss him, it felt like the last kiss of their existence to Annie. She hated everything, if only her mother would be reasonable. 

"I never forget you," she whispered into her ear.

"Never stop dancing, promise me that," he smiled a little. 

"And you never stop having fun...," she added smiling back. 

He hugged her so tight, her lungs almost gave out on her. 

"I better go." she turned to go.

Running so as she wouldn't cry, she heard his voice once more, and laughed at it. 

"Never stop being a bitch, or I might have to kill you!" 


	2. Chapter One

Öq0;HTML1DocumentEncodingwindows-1252GeneratorMicrosoft Works 4.0Chapter One: Sorting Pictures

**__**

Oh, you may not think I'm pretty  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart  
Their daring nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindor apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of with and learning,  
Will always find there kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make you real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means,  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!

"Slytherin, that's where you belong! Full of ambition and the desire for power..." The Sorting Hat's words seethed with shrillity into Annie's mind. 

She had never be sorted before, at Mirasta they didn't have enough students to have houses, much less four. She now sat in Professor McGonagall's room with a large dusty, dirty hat on her head, telling her where to be. She had just come from London with the Headmaster, a kindly but sharp old wizard by the name of Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall sat in her chair looking over her closely. She had just given Annie all her book requirements for her sixth year. Professor McGonagall had told her that they were only temporary, that before next year she would have to get her own things. Annie hadn't met any of her other teachers yet, but she had read her class schedule over and over. She had Potions(one of her favorite classes), Transfiguration, Defense of the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination and History of Magic. She had dearly hoped she had a good teacher in Potions, the rest she could just ditch. _Thank god I don't have charms, I hate charms._

The Sorting Hat spoke to her again after a long contemplation, "Potions, I see, definitely a Slytherin." Annie had to smile, she had prided her self with the 120% she had received the year before. 

"But...there is something more." The Sorting Hat seemed to be thinking to itself. 

Then it spoke out loud to announce to Professor McGonagall, "Slyth--Gryffindor!" 

Professor McGonagall looked a little miffed at the confused confession of the Sorting Hat but took it off Annie's head and put it back in its place. 

"Well, my dear. My own house, I'll show you the way." 

Annie picked up her books, wrapped her black cape a little closer to her body and followed Professor McGonagall out the door and down the hallway. 

"I am sorry you had to miss the feast Miss Whiting, but that was expected since you are so new, and not a first year. If you will follow me, I will take you to the Gryffindor Common Room, where you'll be introduced to the rest of the Gryffindors." 

She followed Professor McGonagall through the dark twisting hallways and up the moving staircases. Annie had never seen a place like it. She loved it, it was enormous, much more than Mirasta and it looked great for dark hiding places. Although she had no Toni to frequent them with. She had sent him four letter since arriving in London. Each one telling him she missed him dearly. and promising she'd visit him next summer. Soon they had reached the portal with a painting of a Fat Lady. 

"Good evening Professor McGonagall." 

"Thank you. Patronus." 

The picture opened and Annie was gestured to follow. 

She walked into the Gryffindor Common Room, attempting to look as dark as possible. Her eyes and lips were done in the same treatment she had given when she had last seen Toni. Totally dark and gothic. 

The whole of the Gryffindor Common Room froze as they saw Professor McGonagall come through the portal. 

"Professor!" Hermione Granger, Gryffindor Prefect exclaimed and went forward to talk to her.

Annie slipped in behind Professor McGonagall and intently listened to her talking. 

"This is our new student, Miss Granger. She's to be your roommate, so make her feel as much at home as possible." Then Professor McGonagall nodded to Annie, who had made a home in the shadows, and left. Hermione was looking around trying to see Annie, shaking her head when she didn't.

Annie shifted her books and came out of the shadows. The Common Room erupted into quiet whisperings as soon as Professor McGonagall left. Hermione Granger was the studious type, with brown eyes and long brown hair. Annie just nodded as the prefect motion for her to follow her. Annie felt everyone's eyes on her as she passed , whispering to themselves. Newbies always got that, and she was used to it. She made the best display that she could, walking right behind the quiet Hermione Granger with her head held high, hips swishing and eyes stormy with a purpose. So this was Hogwarts. She missed Toni, but she had vowed to see him soon. Maybe the next holiday she'd sneak out. 

"This is the girl's dormitory." 

"What? Oh thanks." Annie shot back a look, she did not want the prefect to start asking questions.

"That's our room." Annie looked to where the open door was at the end of the hall. 

Hermione just left her there. Annie was glad she left, she wasn't in the mood to talk or be stared at. She knew she looked a sight with her dark makeup and equally dark clothes. Annie found that her trunk had been brought up and her owl's cage. Puck, her black owl was out somewhere, probably having some fun. _I wish I could fly like him. _Annie pulled out her bookbag crammed a couple notepads of parchment, her quill and ink, and her books in it. A flopped on her back onto her four poster bed, reading Toni last letter to her. 

*~*

-Ron's POV-

I sat there on my bed, carefully pulling out my colors and brushes. I didn't want to go down to the common room, it was too crowded. It would be pointless, everyone was probably doing just fine without me. I had no idea was I was going to paint but this would be better than any other alternative. It was quiet up here, quiet and peaceful. That's how I liked it. I no longer had to listen to anyone but myself. I pulled my easel closer dipped one of my brushes in the paint and started. I often use watercolors over sticky acrylics or pastels. The translucent colors glide across the thick, absorbent, parchment, creating puddles of water, shifting at the slightest quake. Yes, watercolor is dangerous, difficult to control. It is a chore to lead in the correct direction, to manipulate its natural flow. Yet, it is a thrill to dab the brush into the bowl, filled with murky dyes, and then watch the parchment change into sheer shining sheets of rainbow. Painting has always been a passion, a release from the 'blah' chatter of everyday life. Not that my life has really been much 'blah', with Harry around but still. It's a break, something I can do on my own, that no one else knows of. That I do just for 'me'. I have been painting and drawing for years. I have tried to keep it a secret, something I have kept solely for myself. It's something to treasure, for it is something I am truly good at. Everyone I know considers me to be a side kick to Harry, someone who is fairly good at chess, yet not so clever or brilliant as Hermione. I guess I am the odd one out. I am not the star of the family. My brothers Fred and George are the Quidditch superstars, the infamous troublemakers whom everyone flocks to be around. I can not compete with them, hell, I don't even want to. Sure, Quidditch is my favorite sport, but I won't fool myself, I am not all that talented on a broomstick. I am also not Prefect material like Percy. He really did a number on my teacher's expectations for me. It is a little maddening to witness the exact moment when one of your professors realize that the apple fell further from the tree than expected. The thing is, it is hard for me to concentrate on things I dislike. For example, homework. So I end up looking fidgety and wavering, like I have the attention span of a 9 year old. But I love to paint, to draw. It is something of my choice, that I like to think I am good at. Also, I can hardly expect to be working in Romania at a dragon colony any time soon, like my brother Charlie. Now he has some guts; something I have always looked up to him for. He is the apple of my parent's eyes, and my role model. So, what about me? Here I am ladies and gentlemen, fidgety Ron, foiled to the extreme by my famous best friend Harry, my genius counterpart Hermione, and my popular, achievement snatching brothers. Sometimes I would like to snatch my paint brush and blotch them all out; for a moment. Perhaps it would relieve this pressure from my chest, this ache. s, I suppose that is why I disclose my artistic inclinations. I feel that if I did make my art public there would only be someone else to show me up. I would rather keep it to myself, to be naive in the thought that I have a singular and unique talent. Though I must admit, because I do have quite the handle on my medium, that my art is not the work of an amateur. I can paint nearly anything, and dozens of my pieces lay hidden under my bed. I know I am being foolish, but this art of mine is all I have to keep me from the others. One day I hope that due to this quality of mine, my name will no longer be connected just for being Harry's bumbling sidekick or Hermione's friend of lesser brain capacity. 

Suddenly the Common Room becomes silent, but I am too much in this silent reverie of art, than to care. And soon enough the sound has been turned back on in the Common Room, as if I had willed it off mute. Finally when my work is down I look back at it. I have painted Nobert, the baby dragon of Hagrid, that Charlie took, during our first year. It's not exceptionally good, so I dismiss it, half dried and shove it under my bed. I am finding it harder to use art as a release. I suppose either I am getting worse or it's getting old, or this jealousy, yes jealousy that I have has completely taken over. Harry is soon upstairs talking fervently with Dean and Seamus. I have no want or need to talk, so I slip my curtains shut and pretend to be asleep, all the while sorting pictures in my mind. 


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Snape vs. Whiting

It was Annie's first day, and she wanted to make an impression. She didn't care if it was good or bad, she just wanted to make one. So she got up early, making sure Hermione, in the bed across the room, was asleep. She slipped out of her black vampire motif pajamas and grabbed her uniform. White shirt, grey pleaded skirt, gold and red tie, grey sweater, grey socks, brown shoes, and grey socks. But last, she pulled out some fishnet stockings that Toni had given her just last summer. She dressed and looked at herself in the mirror approvingly. Her black ringlets over hair managed to look right. She grabbed her makeup bag and dolled out large amounts of it on her face. Pale white compact powder, grey eyeshadow, dark eyeliner, black lipstick, and black stars in the corner of each eye. With one last swipe of her black pencil she darkened her eyebrows to match. 

"There!" Annie grabbed her coat, bookbag and her schedule and headed to find her first class. 

She wasn't one for breakfast, or food in general. As Toni had continually reminded her, 'Do all dancers starve?' So instead of going to the great hall and having breakfast, she traveled through the empty corridors to find her first class. Which, just happened to be Potions. 

*~*

"Oi, Ron, Harry isn't that the new girl." Seamus Finnigan pointed to the back of the classroom, where there sat indeed the new addition to the Gryffindor ranks, but she didn't look it. Ron couldn't help staring at her, like the rest did. Her outfit and makeup, did cry *Look at me* He tried to pin point, what she was exactly. What her attitude was. Then with a thought that almost startled him, he realized that despite, her red and gold, she shone silver and green beneath. The silver and green of a Slytherin. 

Snape burst in, breaking up the chattering, looking as groggy and acrimonious as ever. He was always that way in the morning. 

"Is that you Miss Whiting, all the way in the back? I would prefer as a _Gryffindor_, _new_ to this class that you sit up front. _Now!_" Snape was in no mood to be civil. Many inward groans could be heard from the Gryffindors. 

But they became relatively silent, waiting to see how she would react. They knew Snape was trying to make her life as miserable as possible. She was a Gryffindor, and thus to be a Gryffindor to be hated by Snape.

But it didn't seem to dampened the girl's spirits. 

She smiled cockily and her voice resembled that of a green snake, "With pleasure, Professor." 

She got to her feet out of her slouched position and walked to the front of the class. As she walked, she seemed to show herself off. As if she wanted everyone to see her. 

"Look at her! You could be fined for looking like that." 

Ron realized what Dean was talking about, she had made a new addition to her uniform. Fishnet stockings. 

"Oh great, a Goth, should she belong in Slytherin?" 

"Why is she in Gryffindor?" 

"Wrong house, she must be in the wrong house?"

"Nice!" 

"I could swear she's a Slytherin." 

Whispers circulated around the classroom, but Snape silenced them as Annie took a seat in front.

"Now, who can tell me about Scintillating Solution?"

The class looked around, as normal none of them had done the reading except Hermione whose hand shot straight into the air. 

Snape surveyed his class with and muttered something to the effect of, "oh gosh can't she just shut up for once."

"Miss Whiting, will you please inform us on this potion?"

All eyes turned to the new girl. 

"Professor, It seems trivial to ask me, as Miss Granger has her hand raised and doubtly knows the answer."

"I didn't ask Miss Granger, I _asked_ you. So do you or do you not know it?" Snape shot back, angrily. 

The class just watched on.

"Scintillating Solution, well, not much is known about it, but the creator, Miranda Phosphor came across it while looking to create a potion to reduce the affects of the Living Death potion. They are still are trying to figure out what it does. The ingredients include dragon's heat, wormtails, and arrowroot, and some others. But as I said they are still researching it. Do you want anything else _Professor_?" She leaned back in her chair daring Snape to ask her another question. 

"Well, that sufficient Miss Whiting." Snape spat through gritted teeth.

So he began the lesson on dealing with unknown potions, but Annie knew most of the material. So, Snape had given her an essay, saying something along the lines of 'get it done before class ends.'

Annie tuned everyone out, gave Snape a feigned worried look, and started her essay. By the time class had ended she had finished. With a flourish she put the essay on Snape's desk and walked out the door. Her next class was Divination and then she had lunch. She found her way up to the tower and into Professor Trelawney's class, it was boring and she remained half awake. But the time lunch came she was ready to just die of boredom. She was down in the great hall early, and grabbed some food and scurried up to the Common Room to read. She didn't want to be found, so she made it that harder for people to find her.

"Excuse me." There was a tap on her shoulder.

Annie looked up from her book, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? to see Hermione's eyes staring back at her. 

"What?" 

"Care of Magical Creatures, I wouldn't want you to be late." 

Annie gave her a feigned smile, clapped her book shut, and slowly got up. She knew Hermione was being nice, that was the problem, she hated people who thought they had to be nice to her. They made it down to Care of Magical Creatures, right on time. Hagrid, a big bumbling giant was setting up the lesson. More and more students seemed to flood down, in the greenhouse. 

"Oh look, its the freak Whiting, Snape's pet!" A voice laughed in sadistic merriment from behind her. 

She remembered that voice, he was in her potions class. Malfoy, that was it, he was Malfoy. 

"Oh look, its the freak Malfoy, no fucking shit! Like I care." Annie said without even turning around. 

That shut him up, at least until Hagrid had settled down to give the lesson. It was on Araies, little water pixies. Annie lazily took notes, but wasn't really paying attention, she was surveying her other students. Diagonally across from her was Hermione with two of her friends, Annie frequently saw her with. One with black, untidy hair, thin but muscular in his own right. The other was tall, freckled, red head. They were the perfect trio, she realized. The black haired boy was the hero, the redhead was his sidekick, and Hermione was the brains of the operations being the prefect that she was. Through that whole hour long class, Annie found herself envying them. They worked so well together, were such good friends. And when Hagrid asked for the black haired boy to come up to the front of the class, she saw through his untidy hair that there was a lightning bolt scar. He was trying to hide it Annie could tell, but there it was, a lightning bolt scar. It was a pretty cool scar, and she told herself to tell him that. But she soon turned back to wandering, taking in all the students one by one. 

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in Care of Magical Creatures as Hagrid babbled on about Araies. And as if it was the only thing, they could talk about the topic of coversation came around to Annie Whiting.

"Ugg...why do I have to be stuck with her, Malfoy is right, she is a freak!" Hermione whispered, more than a little tick. "She didn't even acknowledge me or say thank you." 

"Herm, siding with Malfoy, isn't that a little bit far. She can't be that bad." Harry grumbled back. 

"Oh yes she can." Hermione muttered back. 

"Yeah, I have to agree, she is well...a freak. She really does belong in Slytherin." Ron said laughing to himself.

But before they could discuss the matter further, Hagrid dismissed everyone. 

The trio began to gather up all there stuff before heading off, but just as Harry stood up, *the freak* Annie passed by their table. 

Harry felt her gaze, as she looked him up and down. Then she smiled.

"Wicked scar." 

She turned on a dime, and with a toss of her hair, she was off. 


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three: Still Sorting....it out

Hermione just couldn't stand it, the tension was excallating way to much for comfort. It had been a week since the famous "wicked scar* incident. She really wanted to know what was going through Annie Whiting's head. For the most part it gave her a huge headache, not knowing what the girl was thinking. Finally she had had enough.

Annie could see Hermione fidgeting out of the corner of her eye. She lay on her stomach reading the last few pages of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and thinking about what to write in her Defense of the Dark Arts Essay about Vampire Curses. She had begun to let her hair grow, so she let the longer clumps of hair shroud her face. She was waiting for the ball to drop. 

"What is with you?!" Hermione snapped.

Annie made her dark eyes level with her brown ones. 

"I don't understand." But Annie knew what she was talking about. 

"You're...you're..."

"I am, what?" Annie fixed her eyes on Hermione as she fumbled for words to say. 

"You're so different...and that whole thing with Harry." 

_So that his name..._

"What can't take something different." Annie had wished more out of her, at least some understand, but what did she expect, a miracle. 

Hermione didn't say anything, her lips were stretched thin as if she was trying to push herself to say something. 

Annie had, had enough. It just was stupid to think she could actually make friends here. Annie slammed her book shut, slid off her bed and left. 

Annie didn't know where she was going, she just wanted to be a loner for awhile. She had to admit it, Life sucked and she wanted Toni and because she couldn't have him, she was being a complete and total egotistical bitch. 

Never hurt anyone to be nice, did it? Her own voice said inside her head. 

But...Ah well, I'll try, she heard herself respond. 

That's my girl. 

Soon, she found herself at the Quidditch pitch watching her own house, having their first practice of the season. She watched them and wished she was up there. She loved flying, it gave her a thrill that she had never gotten anywhere else. Even the times she was with Toni could be rivaled by it. She noticed something strange about the setup. There was only six. They needed one more. 

"Well Ron, not bad, not bad, this being your first day an' all." Harry put his hand on Ron's shoulder. 

"Thanks for you vote of confidence mate.' Ron couldn't believe when Harry had asked him that morning to come to Quidditch practice for something, but he never dreamed of actually being on the team. He almost laughed at himself for being thinking so badly of himself. 

"All right team, locker rooms, we are done for the evening." Harry said, his emerald eyes twinkling. He was the _captain_ like his father, Voldemort was no where in sight, life was great. 

Ron was looking at something in the dark, near the stands. 

"Harry," he whispered hesetently. 

Harry turned to his friend and then tried to see what he saw.

Just above a whisper Ron's voice cracked, "She's staring at us." 

"What?" Harry sagged against Ron, taking off his glasses and wiping the trickling sweat off his brow.

"Ron you're seeing things? Great I'm down a chaser just cause of the dark." 

But something moved in the shadows and came out on the brighter Quidditch Pitch. It was Annie Whiting. She was wearing her Hogwarts uniform except she was wearing pants instead of her skirt.

She gestured to the field, "There's only six of you and I was wondering..." She said shortly, flicking her obsidian hued hair out of her dark eyes. 

"Wondering what?" Ron snapped.

She laughed to herself before answering, they were so skeptical of her. 

"I was a chaser at my old school and _there_ is a space open for one, right? I was wondering, if I could join the team?" 

Harry looked at her again, maybe she wasn't all that bad, and they _desperately _needed a chaser. Harry worst nightmare was having to use Neville. 

"Are you any good?" Harry asked wanting to know what was in that head of hers. 

"You can see for yourself, if you'd like to." She replied flatly. 

She muttered under her breath and her broom appeared out of thin air. She mounted her Nimbus 2000, all the while, Ron hissed, "Are you sure about this?" 

"Yeah," Harry muttered, not really sure himself. 

Ron and Harry managed to get the Quaffle and the Bludger out, while Annie flew around. Ron turned on the outer lights while Harry mounted his Firebolt, making sure the Bludger didn't hit him. 

"All right, Whiting, lets see what you got!" Harry called throwing the Quaffle into the air. 

In less than a second she was whipping passed him, a dark blur, the Quaffle under her arm. _Damn, she's fast._ She spirited to the other end of the field, Harry chasing after her, as she played a loose game of do-si-do with the Bludger. By the time Harry had reached her at the goal, she had put the Quaffle through the hoop about ten times, ten different ways. The last time, she threw it into the air and scored by hitting it with the tail of her broom. 

"Well, your fast enough." 

She just smiled, her eye alive with passion and a semi malicious spark. 

They say 'When the going gets tough, the tough get going'. Harry fully understood that quote now. He felt a little sore from practice it had been their first one this years, but what really was bothering him, what had shaken him up was their new chaser, Annie Whiting. At the end of her showing off some amazing talent and defensive tactics (that only Slytherins would use but which she performed with more finesse), she had asked him if she was good enough, since she'd been out of practice. Hood, she was better than good. A smile encroached on his face, he couldn't wait till Malfoy and his gang, saw what card he had, The Queen of Spades


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four: Sorting...the Queen of Spades

*Ron's POV*

I sat in Potion's class, my eyes half closed. Snape was rattling on about Shrinking Potions and ever few moments I had to shift positions, trying to find a comfortable spot. Periodically I opened my eyes fully just in case Snape was watching me, I couldn't afford to be dosing in class, at least not by him. But of course he wasn't staring at me, or anyone else for that matter, except for Annie Whiting, 'Queen of Spades,' 'Goth Girl', Gryffindor but Potions genius. Malfoy was right she was Snape's Pet. It was sickening the way he looked at her. But what did you except from a Slytherin? A sick, sick Slytherin. In fact it seemed that all of the Slytherin's looked at her. I mean, she did belong in their house. How she ever got into Gryffindor I'll never know. But she is a hell of a Quidditch player. Very good in fact, and we need her skill. She had sure showed Harry up. Outstripped him on that Nimbus 200 of hers and clearly wasn't afraid of anything, much less the bludger. It had seems that 'Goth Girl, Queen of Spades' has shown us all up. Blimey, she's good. I found my eyes wandering to a few desks in front of me and Harry, and threw slinted eyelids stared with out realizing for a moment. She was lounging there leaning back, hands folded behind her head, legs crossed. Her black hair, that seamed to get longer at an extraordinary rate made her skin glow. Suddenly, I get this heat rising to my face along with some thoughts my mother would smack me for. Ron, what the hell are you thinking? I berated myself, burning my reddening face my hands. When I looked up Harry was looking at me weirdly. So to pass the time, I took out my sketch book and pencil. I needed to get my mind off dark eyes and pale skin. My hand moved methodically and intricately across the white parchment. It called to me, called to my fingers, to release, to release everything. I felt the bursqueness of the rough pencil between my fingers that had collected small drops of sweat, that seemed to add to my need. So to make Snape think I was listening I stared at the bored. My fingers sketching over the course of the hour, began to cramp. But my brain chanted draw...To get away... For god sakes what are you thinking Ron! Harry nudged me, so hard I jumped and muttered to me something like, class is almost over. I settled back into my seat, closed my sketchbook, right as Snape gave out the instructions for the next essay. Damn that man! 

"It needs to be at least, at least four pages long, I don't want three and I don't want five, _Miss Granger_. Class dismissed." I saw Hermione blush and got up to go talk with her. 

"What the topic?" I absent mindedly asked.

"Ron, weren't you listening?! I suppose not. Shrinking Potions. Listen I got to go." Hermione left looking thoroughly flushed. 

*~* 

A few days later, I sat on my bed. I had made it a rule not to look at what I had drawn the last couple days. But now my fingers itched to have them shown. Picking up my beloved sketch book, I opened it up, feeling the soft, grained pages. The first two, had landscapes from ages ago, maybe last year. I really don't know. I turned the page and almost killed myself there. Sketch, after sketch, drawing after drawing was the one thing I was trying to forget about. I flipped threw twelve pages front and back and moaned. The only thing I had drawn in the last week was Annie Whiting. I studied what I had drawn, some were good and worth keeping, if I didn't think the idea of me being the crazy, repulsive. I had no idea I had drawn her, but she did seem a good excuse to release. Damn! Why her, of all people, why is picture after picture Annie Whiting! 

*~*

A few weeks had passed and I had resolved never to draw Annie Whiting again. She was getting to me, getting to me a little bit too much. It made me mad, thoroughly mad and she got on my nerves constantly. We had a game against Slytherin today, so I had gotten up at five thirty on Harry's orders to be in the Common by six. I hate it when he makes us get up early, on a Saturday. He's turning in Wood! Ahhhh....run away run away. But anyway...Slytherin. First match. I hope I stay awake...oh don't worry I will. 

"RON!" Harry's voice sounded extremely loud.

"WHAT!" I yelled back.

I walked down stairs ready to get ready for the game. 

"You didn't have to wake up the whole dorm." I said 

"Whatever Ron, lets get going." 

The crowds cheer seemed louder on a broomstick than I had expected. We were up Fifty to Ten, and Harry was zooming around trying to find the snitch. I sped down the pitch with increasing speed, following Tara who had the Quaffle under her arm. So far it was a pretty uneventful game, a few goals, no fouls which I was pretty amazed at. I was sure Slytherin had something up their sleeves. But, on the other hand, Annie was giving them a lot of trouble. She knows all of their tricks, how, none of us know. 

"And she makes it...Gryffindor scores, Sixty to Ten!" A voice blares over the loud speaker as Slytherin had called for a time out. 

I don't like it, but then I don't like them. No it's worse than that, I loathe them. Malfoy the worst, he's been tagging Harry all game. Slytherin broke out of their little huddle and game began. Annie was suddenly right next to me, hovering.

"Here!" She three the Quaffle at me.

I grabbed it sprinting down the pitch, Tara following right across from me. A bludger swerved right in front of me so I went into a roll. There were two Slytherins between me and the goal. Tara was too far behind, to throw it to her. So I tried to take a route around them. As I swerved, something knocked into me, then something was violently tugged from my arms. I had lost the Quaffle. Damnit! Cursed Merlin! 

"Almost Dante! Sytherin scores Sixty to Twenty." 

That's when the true game began, a few rough fouls and goals later it was Seventy to Fourty. No matter what I did I couldn't get the Quaffle. Damn that ball anyway. 

"Seventy to Fifty!" 

"Ron!" It was Tara. 

She was being hounded by a few Slytherins. She passed me the Quaffle, but I hadn't been watching where I was. 

SMACK!!!

Pain shot through my back as I doubled over my broom. When I came to, Slytherin had the ball agian. Damn you Ronald Weasley. Oh gosh that sounded like my mother. 

"Spectacular save by Dante Grissim!" I saw Tara's face light up. She and Dante, had been going out, for well years now. From my groggled memory, it seemed they had always been together. 

But Slytherin got the ball back and scored on a foul by Dean, which was incredibly stupid. I was Seventy to Sixty. Harry dammit, catch the snitch I wanted to yell at him, but I knew that the score was partly my fault, I was just having a bad day. Fred and George, had them...well maybe that's a bad example...but still. I saw one of the Slytherins with the ball about 100ft behind me. Annie came out of nowhere, did some fancy flying, I could hardly see, to trick him and grabbed the Quaffle, then threw it at me. I grabbed it, flattened myself to my brown and headed for the Slytherin goal. Dodging a few blugders that undoubtedly had been aimed in my way. I went for the score. I couldn't believe my eyes. I had missed, missed really, really badly. Damn, I cursed myself. The Slytherins were smirking. I had been so mad at myself I hadn't realized that the Slytherins were about to score. Annie was down there wrecking havoc, in complete Annie fashion. On of the Slytherin was attempted a goal, Annie swerved in front of him and he falter, that was all she needed she came up from underneath and knocked the Quaffle out of his hands. In the far corner of the pitch I saw Harry catch the snitch, there was no sign of Malfoy. I felt useless, utterly useless. I felt queasy in the put of my stomach, and felt it souring my mouth. Well, Gryffindor wins but no thanks to worthless, useless me. 

The water was cool on my flushed face, it trickled down my forehead, along the creases of my closed eyes and nose, brushing against my lips, dribbling down my chin, spreading a tingling feeling all through my body. I felt sick, sick to my stomach and I didn't want to see anyone.

"Ron, what are you doing, trying to drown yourself." Harry was standing, striped to his waist drying off his hair with a maroon towel. 

"Nope, its next to impossible to do with the amount of water that come out here." 

Harry looked at me strangely, as if I had grown two heads, he knew something was wrong. He quickly changed the subject. 

"That was a pretty good game we had out there." Harry stated, I knew he was trying to get somewhere with this. 

"No thanks to me." 

"Oh come on Ron, you did fine. Is your back all right, or is it your head that got hit with that bludger?" 

I lied and lied badly, because I knew that those green eyes of his had figured it all out. 

"Okay, whatever Ron. See you later." 

And he left and for the first time in my life, I was glad he did. You just didn't talk about your fucked up mind with the perfect Harry Potter did you? No. 

I stood there for a few more movement, got dressed and headed up to my room. Whenever I am in need of release I draw, so in more was than one I am back to the drawing board. 

I opened the window, there was a nice breeze and the Fall sun shone in through the window, at the right angle. I set up my easel near the window, sat down with my watercolors and assortment of brushes. This time I was painting on canvas. I can't take it anymore! My mind screams for me to pick up a brush, and smooth it over the surface of the white, virgin canvas. I was painting on canvas because it gave light to this painting. It had to be good. And with that, I finally had forsaken any dignity I had left. I knew who I would paint. I knew therelease would come with her. I started with the lines of her body from her face, her long fingers, her lazy hips and long legs. I painted in those full lips of hers, black, her lovely dark eyes, and longish ebony hair. I managed to find an outfit that suited her. A black shirt, black jeans and long flowing golden jacket. I gave her the black shoes I had frequently seen her in. I made sure I captured all the essence of her from her dark makeup, to her devilish smile. Brush stroke, by brush stroke, dab by dab, she came alive and all my from my incessant memory. Boy, your are a hopeless case, aren't you Ron! Well, if I could have her in flesh, I would on paper. God, what was I thinking! But this would be the last time I would draw, the sensuous beauty, My Queen of Spades. I let it dry, watching the sun drift down through the sky in all the hues my paints were. Yes this would be the last time I would ever draw her, so I took the dry watercolor canvas of Annie Whiting and placed it on the bottom of my trunk, covered by an old cloak. 

Annie lounged in the Common Room working on something she had found in her old things. She had first remembered when the manuscript itched to be touched and traversed. It was a manuscript called the Phoenix Dawn Star, old magic and when Annie had found it, it was so covered it dust she feared it had been forgotten for too long. She was intrigued by the power of the words, the little piece of parchment held. She was drawn, somewhat magically and nonmagically to it, like nothing before. She was almost done translating it, when Hermione scooted over, paper in hand.

"Excuse me. Annie."

"Yes." Annie met with Hermione's brown again, in there she saw questions, far too many than she wanted to answer.

"Um...I...was...well...I was...well...you're." Hermione had started to fidget.

"Yes, you were..." Annie prompted to her as Tara, red hair up in two buns as normal slid over. 

"Could you help me on my...my...Potions homework...since-you-are-so-good-at-it?" Hermione's voice rushed to get the question out, she looked as if she was about to cry.

"Of course." Annie said lightly, turning to Tara. 

"Hey." Tara whispered.

"WHAT." Annie whispered back, looking at her new friend, a slight smile on her face.

"Dante...Dante and I were wondering if you could meet us, you know where...you know where, since you beat it out of him with some stuff." Tara pointed her tall, sandy haired, handsome boyfriend. 

"Sure. I'll see you later then." 

Annie said quietly turning back to help Hermione. 


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five: Cigarettes and Foul Play (Hell WEEK!)

"Yeah, you showed up!" Tara shouted, she stood in Dante's embrace at the top of the North Tower. 

Annie pulled out a box of cigarettes, a lighter, a bag of pretzels, and her incense case (which held vanilla incense). Dante and Tara both took a light, while Tara mouthed "thank you".

"No problem." Annie said leaning back on the edge of the tower.

"It's sort of funny," Tara spoke shattering the silence as Dante managed to light the incense with one hand. 

"What?" Annie asked.

"Us, well not you, they already expect the worst from you, Nie, but me and Dante, well they'd have a huge laugh." Tara finished, staring into Dante's purple eyes. Complex spell, he says, contacts, more like it. 

"Ah well, you two, do make an adorable couple though." Annie said, watching them. It reminded her of Toni.

"That brings up another question." Dante said softly. 

"What?"

"Has Toni written you lately?" He had something up his sleeve and Annie wanted to find out. 

"Why?"

"Because Annie its time to find you a new guy." Dante remarked his purple eyes sparkling.

_They've got to be contacts. _

She looked to Tara, for some help as she sucked on her cigarette. She just nodded her pretty little red head.

"Oh shit."

Professor Flickwick's Charms classroom was full of excitement and laughter, and even Ron had come out of his unusually low spirits at the moment to mutter a joke or two. 

"Oh look!" Hermione exclaimed,"Here come our tests." 

Papers fluttered to the right person, as Professor Flickwick magically passed back all the tests.

Ron absent mindedly picked up the paper, that had landed in front of him. 

*F* 

I failed my charms test, and it's my best class! Can this day get any worse? 

It was one of those nights that one particularly didn't want to be out in, because of the things that are known to dark corner. A light breeze drifted through the stone castle making a whispering, moaning sound. This was Annie's favorite time of the day. She sat at a desk in the Common Room, with a manuscript, notebook, ink and quill. The wind and the scratching of her quill, were the only sounds to be heard. 

**__**

The Phoenix Dawn Star

To the Beholder take note:

****

Defixus

**__**

Annie furrowed her brow, had she found something worth while, it sure seemed like it. She still had the history to translate. The words intrigued her. In the beholder's note it was written, as if a warning; it was the most powerful spell in the world. But if that was the case why had it been forgotten? She really didn't want to think about it anymore, it made her head spin. It made her feel, so damn fucked up she wanted to scream. _But, I am so damn fucked up._ She picked up the glass, downing the water and the pill with it. She had the day to deal with in the morning. 

The Potions classroom was unusually quiet as I took my seat next to Harry. Snape was looking quite happy with himself. It looked like another lecture day which would probably ended with them actually having to do something. So I took out some parchment for some notes. Snape started class just as the last of the students entered the classroom. Snape started in on a long winded lecture of Antidotes. I hate this class. I hate it more than anything. Did I mention I HATE this class. Taking notes is not my thing, so after the first five minutes I was soon bored out of my mind and started to show. When I was finished, seeing what I had drawn, I cursed.

"Merlin fucking hell!"

Before I had realized I had disclosed it out loud. 

Snape eyed me madly, "Mr. Weasley that language is unexceptable, sixty points from Gryffindor. If I hear that language again, out of any of you, I'll double it." 

I could feel my face beat bright red, blending with my hair. I tried to buried my self in my chair. I slid as far into my seat as I could. Damn it. 

The rest of class was a nightmare, or for that matter the rest of the week. 

"Another Sixty Points from Gryffindor!" 

"But Professor...." Hermione was the first to speak, I was too swelled up with rage. 

"He didn't blow it up." she muttered but what was the use. 

How come I got the unlucky card. Being yelled at by Snape two times in one day really makes you feel good, doesn't it. Why?

The haze of the next three days, melted into one. I don't remember details, all I do remember is that I felt sick, weak, ill-fated and ineffective. I think McGonagall yelled at me once, it sounded sort of like this. "Mr. Weasley it is supposed to be a butterfly not a cat fur coin purse. Where is your brain? I daresay you've miss placed it." Getting yelled at by Snape is okay, because it's expected but by McGonagall, I really must be horrible. I tried to talk with Hermione, but she had secluded herself in the Library and every time I caught up to her, her answer was somewhere along the lines of, 'Ron, I'm sorry but I do actually do my homework.' Thursday, night I found Harry alone in the Common Room after Quidditch Practice. We needed to talk or rather I needed to talk to someone. 

"Harry," I said tentatively. 

One light was one hanging directly over the desk, illuminating just him. His nose was buried in a large book, rather half his face was, which was piled on some more large books. His untidy hair was covering his face, but I could her him mumbling to himself. 

Finally after standing there for what felt like ten minutes (probably two), he looked up.

"Oh...hey Ron." And plasted himself to the book again. 

"Can we talk Harry?" I asked, wanting to grab him by the next and yank his brain back to the now. 

"Umm...sure." He didn't even raise his eyes, it was if he hadn't really heard me and was on default. A few more uncomfortable seconds past between us. I shifted tedious from foot to foot. 

"Can we talk NOW." I pleaded, emphasizing the NOW. 

"Now...uhh. What exactly do you want to talk about, because I am trying to figure out a game strategy against Ravenclaw. They got quiet a good keeper, so...." I left him there muttering on and on about Quidditch. I don't even think he knew I left, or was even there. 

I trudged up to my bed, plunging face flat into. 

Hermione doesn't talk to me, my teachers constantly are yelling at me, and even Harry is not talking, but going on about his stupid Quidditch as if nothing was wrong, as if I didn't exist. I should just kill myself now, and get it over with. 

Professor Snape had asked her to come down to the dungeons after her last class. But her last class just happened to be Quidditch practice. So at a frantic run, Annie ran and slid through the hallways, until she found herself in the Potions classroom. Three hours late, well at least three hours later than expected. 

"Professor." 

The classroom was still lit, but the door to his office was still open. 

"Professor, sorry I was late. Quidditch practice is suck a waste of time."

She looked curiously around for the tall, black haired, long nosed teacher. 

"Are you always this late." Professor Snape appeared out of his office, looking quite different. You could almost say it was bordering on friendly.

"I'm afraid I am, it's a ghastly trait I know. But as they say time flies when your having fun." She leaned back against one of the desks. 

"You are probably wondering why you are here." Snape stated, wiping his hands off, on a clean towel, probably the only clean thing in the place. 

"Yes..., that would be one thing I am wondering." Annie wanted to get to the bottom of whatever it was and go up to the North Tower, she hadn't been there all day, and she was close to verging on withdrawal symptoms. 

"Well, don't take this to heart to much, I am not a patronizing person. You are a very good potions student, actually one of the best I've had, and not to mention you resemble an old friend of mine. Well, what I am trying to say Ms. Whiting, is that I give you free reign of my potion's classroom, as I am sure you would like to do some experimenting." Snape explained, but instead of seeing a young girl with dark hair and eyes, he saw a boy with long dark hair and eyes with a smirking smile playing on his lips. Mordry...why does this pretty girl remind me so much of you. 

Luckily, Annie spoke first, Snape couldn't find his voice, and even if he wanted to, he wouldn't know where to look for it. 

"Well, thank you Professor. I assure you, this privilege will come to great use. Well, I am off." And she turned and fled fleeting down the hall, leaving Snape with his thoughts of two young boys, brothers almost, laughing about a new potion they'd discovered, or a new trick, or a new gadget, new spell, new curse, new life, new anything. 

It's Friday and it's Potions, once more. Did I mention I hate this class? I feel totally miserable. No one talks to me, not even Harry. Plus, on top of that, I can't get anything right. My eyes begin to prick, as if I am going to cry for my uselessness. In the pit of my stomach, I can feel a sour churning swelling even into my mouth. I am useless and this class is useless. Falling asleep is the better alternative. My face lays sideways against the rough parchment, and my arms are covering my head. I didn't even know I had actually fallen asleep, until a few minutes after the fact. It is so much better than listening to Snape rattle on, about something I don't know or care to think one, solitary moment about. Life is not a box of chocolates, life is not a bowl of cherries, life is hell, or rather purgatory depending on how you look at it. And right now I am in the deepest pit of hell and wanting to sick lower into its quagmire. My brothers are all stars, my parents adore them. Harry's got Voldemort to watch out for, Sirius to talk to, and Quidditch, Hermione's got school, Seamus and Dean, well forget about them, Ginny too busy with her own life. No one really cares, do they. 

"Mr. Weasley, wake up! Sleeping in class, I see."

I started at the sound of Professor Snape's savage like voice.

He caught me, damn my asinine luck. 

I felt my face start to blush, I didn't care. I was too mad at the world and him, to truly care, that it was the third time Snape had yelled at me in the last week. Third times a charm, right? Yeah, hell, who cares for phony aphorisms anyway.

Snape stared at me for a few moments, before a wave of fury flashed in his eyes.

"Detention I think..." 

There was no use arguing, but that didn't mean that I didn't want to bash his head in. 

"and...fifty points from Gryffindor for SLEEPING." I cringed and did the stupidest thing I had done all week. I bolted. 

I don't know how I found this room, but it is large, empty and quiet. Quiet is always good. I don't know how long I have been up her, more like five hours, since I fell asleep as soon as I found it. I feel the sharp pricking of the tears, that threaten to spill. Before I fell into unconsciousness again, I thought. No one really cares. 

A flood of emotions fill me and they are all damning. I am idiotic, not wanted, stupid, careless, and extremely messed up. Why can't I just do something right. A wave of fury with myself spill over with the frosty tears that have now begun to flow. One main thought sticks and congealates in my mind, I am not wanted by anyone or anything. This agonizing ache in my heart grows each second, I have no control. Yet there must be some way out some way I can end this horridity. I just want to end it, somehow, some way. It's funny, and I laugh. Because there in the boy's bathroom. There is no turning back. 


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six: Lilac

I stood there in the bathroom, as the purple, lilac tainted blood flowed from the long thin gash in my arm. It just wouldn't stop. It flowed like a damned river choking the life from its very veins. I was trying to stop it, just realizing what I had done, but it wasn't working. The more I pressed, the more it flowed. I was soon loosing feeling in my hand, the numbness was taking over, and when I touched my pale though freckled skin it felt unearthly. It hurt. I didn't know it would hurt that bad. It stunned, like a bee sting but right to the bone and all over. Oh god, why would it stop. Please, I pleaded with my own flesh, stop, I didn't meant to. I really didn't. I closed my eyes in attempt to stop the flood of tears. I had no energy left as if, all of it was usurped it the matter of seconds. I was done, cooked, cut, finished. Sliding to the sparkling white tile floor, I lay there in listlessness, not feeling anything. Just watching the flow of my own blood from elbow to wrist. My arm was splayed and I had to laugh at that. It was splayed just like the early martyrs of Christendom were. Except I wasn't dying for anything except myself. I wanted to be in control, so I was, in a way. I was in control of my own death. Aren't I a greedy little bitch. But they wont really care in the end and I'll be too dead to care, so that's that. Poor, poor Ron. Yes, poor, poor me. I try to move my arm to a more comfortable position but it hurts even more , sending spasms of tremendous pain. I gasp in realization, I am afraid. Despite this mask, I am afraid. Afraid, such an interesting word. And I am foolish too. A foolish, foolish Ron am I. I close my eyes as the tears have finally won, in making my body rack with them. It is so cold in here. So very cold and the my shivering makes it even worse. Pictures float through the inside of my eyelids, mostly containing Harry and HER. Yes, HER, my Queen of Spades. But when was she ever mine. All the pictures, even sketched of her are there, haunting me, taunting me. Even the full portrait watercolor, I did almost a week ago. Even my own fantasies swim through, coming and going. Her smile that never ceased to make me smile back, here dark eyes, her ivory yet sparsely freckled skin, not tampered like my own. Her hair like the night, fluttery and flowing, her hands so strong yet so soft, her laughter, her wit, her insane ability to make everyone notice her. Her lips, which I so wished to kiss. Tears flowed, freely down my cheeks, stinging my already chapped cheeks. A small gasp escaped my lips. Oh gods what have I done? 

Annie knew something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. She had this forbodding feeling about something. That usual meant something **was** amiss. She took one last puff from her Salem Light and put it out, placing in the ashtray. Getting to her feet from her laguid position, she started to pace. She had a sixth sense of ferreting trouble and she was fed up with fantasies of what was wrong. Then she heard stifled sobs from the bathrooms. Oh god...her mind was running along familiar territory remembering what she'd done to herself. But what bathroom? She searched, the girl and was about to search the prefects, when she heard the cried coming, distinctly from the boy's. The light was still on and she took a few more steps in, before she found him.

"Ron!" 

"I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to!" He was almost screaming as if he had lost his hearing. Annie put a silencing spell around them. 

"Ron, what--" But she was cut off by his frantic words.

"Why wont it stop bleeding, oh gods please just make it stop bleeding!" His words were coming out in sobs. 

Annie knelt down next to him, carefully judging the situation. She reached out to him, but he flinched away. Annie magicked a large towel to her side.

"Ron, I am only trying to help."

Ron was trying to figure out who was there. God...he prayed, 'it's not Harry, is it?' from whatever corner his mind was still semi-sane. Annie finally took control of Ron's arms. Ron thought he was going insane, excruciating pain attacked from all sides. Someone had taken hold of his injured arm. He had tried to pull away but to no avail. He felt a tingling, soft feeling spread through his arm, but still couldn't think clearly through all the pain. Whoever the person was, put a glass of water to his lips and he drank it eagerly. His vision wasn't so blurry anymore and he could see who had found him. Annie. 

"Please, don't take me to Madam Pomfrey, please, not to Madam Pomfrey!" He pleaded, the tears flowing more incessantly now. 

"Okay, Ron I won't take you to Madam Pomfrey, but you're going to have to cooperate with me. Let's get out of this bathroom." She helped him to his feet, but he was still in great anguish, even after the pain mediation she'd just given him. She finally got Ron to one of the couches in the Common Room. 

"Why won't it stop?" He cried out between wracking sobs, that twisted and tossed his pale body.

"You're not putting enough pressure on it." 

She took his arm again, and applied as much pressure as she dared. 

"Oh god, I didn't mean to do it! You must believe me!" He reached out clasping her hands his good one. 

"Now Ron, I don't care about that. Just relax, it's going to hurt a lot f you want me to fix you up, rather than Madam Pomfrey." 

She turned to get him to focus on her. 

"I don't want to die." He coughed out just as Annie had put a Silencing Spell over them. 

Annie sat in the chair right across from him. In seconds she had summoned all the supplies, she needed. Pulling off the towel, she saw his wound for the first time. He had cut himself with something dull from elbow to wrist, and it was clean to the bone. She dropped another pain pill in the glass of water and gave it too him. It was a rusty cut, some parts were jagged, but luckily it looked clean. It took Annie the better part of an hour to sew his arm up, then she placed some salve on it. Grabbing some bandaged she started to wrap the whole lower half of his arm. He was still awake, although she looked up and found that he was watching her through glazed, watery eyes. The look he gave her said, multitudes. That he trusted her with the world. And right now, she needed that, because he was trusting her with the world, **his** world. But that could be, because he is heavily drugged right now. 

She turned to face him, so she toed the bandage off, around his hand. She held it for awhile, trying to rub the blood back into the pale flesh. She smiled sadly, she wanted to know why he did it, but I already know don't I. 

"It always hurts the first time." She said bittersweetly as they sat in the darkness, while Ron went into a heavily drugged sleep, while Annie continued to rub the lower half of her arms. 


End file.
